All That I've Got
by Completely Bunned
Summary: Helga writes to Arnold on her computer, pouring her feelings in the form of emails that will never be sent. Takes place during The Patakis. Post-Neighborhood and Post-Jungle Movie.
1. Afraid

**All That I've Got**

**A Hey Arnold! HelgaXArnold Fanfiction**

**Disclaimer:**I unfortunately do not own _Hey Arnold!_, the show is the property of the amazing Craig Bartlett. If I did own the show, _The Jungle Movie_ and _The Patakis_ would have been made.

_Hey everyone! HA!'s been my favorite show since like, forever, and HelgaXArnold always was and will forever be my most beloved OTP, mainly because my life while growing up was pretty much exactly like Helga's. I too have an Arnold and, despite the geographical distance separating us and how long it's been since we've seen each other, I still think of him every day. And so, because of this and to "celebrate" nine years of heartache, I've decided to do what I've thought of and been wanting to do for ages: write a Hey Arnold! Helga-centric fanfiction. This is basically my take on "The Patakis". Helga has a microsoft document full of emails or "letters" to Arnold which she's always wanted to send him without ever actually having the guts to do it. It's something I've also done (and am still currently doing) so, hopefully, I'll be able to succesfully communicate her feelings. This'll either be a one-shot or a continued story, depending on how popular it is. Anyway, enough talking, hope you like it!_

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_"When I wake up, I'm afraid somebody else might take my place." - _The Neighborhood

I miss you.

All the time, every day, and every second.

It's insane, you know, how I feel about you: I mean, we were in preschool for darn sake, and yet I fell madly, hopelessly, insanely ga-ga head-over-heels in love with you the second I saw you.

The second you shielded me from the rain with your umbrella, when you were there for me when no one else was.

Treated you like crap, though. It didn't just mess me up even more, it also messed _you _up, and even though some part of you always knew there was more to me than my tough, cruel exterior, there were times when you truly despised me.

And through all of those times, even when you fell for other girls, I loved you.

Then came that field trip. The time we saved your parents, the time I finally confessed once again. I mean, I'd done it once before that, when you had saved the neighborhood like the prince in shining armor and wonderfully irritating goody-two-shoes you are, but that time didn't really count. After all, I _did _retract what I'd said.

But to go back to the one and only confession that mattered, to my biggest surprise, you'd come to feel the same way about _me_. I, Helga G. Pataki, the girl who's tormented you and bullied you for years, _I _somehow managed to communicate through all of that enough of my mushy interior that you were willing to give me a chance and, before you knew it, you began to slowly realize that you loved me too. I can't tell you how that made me feel, happiness doesn't do it justice: I was freaking ecstatic.

You were my universe, Arnold. And today, I guess you're merely my world, or maybe part of me is still in denial and you remain the most important thing to have been created by stardust in my eyes, or by whatever Creator might be the right one, if Creator there is.

You're my everything, Arnold. My religion, my obsession...

And yet we broke up. Whose fault was that? Both of our faults, I believe. It was mostly me. I was just so freaking _terrified_, so paralyzed by the mere thought of losing you, that I started being harsh towards you again. When I wasn't busy being cruel towards you, I'd apologize again and again and constantly seek reassurance that you did indeed care. You'd of course try to reassure me up as best as you could, but it simply wasn't enough. I then began to understand that this couldn't work, it simply couldn't, because you sincerely cared about me, but you didn't Love me with a capital "L", you didn't see me as the epitome of everything in the same way that I saw you.

As if that weren't enough, there was Gerald worrying you, what not with his constant hanging out with the wrong crowd, making you worry that, despite his reassuring words, he'd go bad too. Phoebe shared your fear, heck, she still shares it to this day. Tall-hair boy ain't getting any better.

I'm so pathetic. I mean, look at me, writing letters in thin air on a Microsoft Word document for the boy I fell hopelessly in love with ten years ago. I mean, criminey! I'm freaking sixteen, and I _still_ worship the mere thought of you. You moved away two years ago now, and heck knows how much I wished, hoped, _begged _that your absence would help the devotion go away, but it didn't. It's no longer destructive, insane, obsessive and passionate, but it's still just as consuming.

It's even more terrifying, in a way, because what I feel now is some sort of calm, unconditional love for you. I feel like I could wake up by your side for the rest of my days and never tire of it. I love everything about you, Football-head, even the things which annoy me to the point of driving me completely nuts!

At first, I couldn't even look at other guys, you know that? They left me vastly indifferent, to the point where I thought my capacity to feel attraction for other dudes was indefinitely broken or tied to you in some way. That's changed. I can appreciate good-looking individuals nowadays, but the thing is, I don't care any more than that, mainly because of their personality. They're all freaking idiotic jocks for the most part. Those immature losers have got nothing on you.

I wonder how you're doing, my wonderful, golden-haired prince, my Apollo, my love. Is your schoolwork progressing just fine? Do you still dream of becoming a pilot someday? Are your parents doing alright and are things still going well between you guys?

Do you ever think about me?

...

Do you ever _miss_ me?

I certainly do. As I've said previously, I think about you every day. I stopped dreaming of you though, at least, I no longer do it every day. That's good, because it was getting creepy when I got past 352 times, I'll be honest. Yes, even for me, that was just getting excessive.

I wish I could see you again or talk to you. I wish I could hear your voice just once and tell you how I feel. I wish you were able to listen, and I wish things hadn't gotten so complicated between us. I'm sorry that I've started all this, but you have to understand: I just had too much of a good thing, and I didn't know what to do with it. The key to paradise had been handed over to me by God or Cupid himself, and I was left with the sole responsibility of keeping the most sacred of places eternally kept.

And of course, what did I do?

I destroyed it. And, in the process, I destroyed myself as well.

Cheesy, I know. Heh, sometimes when I'm not on "romance" mode, I read myself over and I scowl. I tell myself that I shouldn't be like this I mean, I'm Helga G. Pataki! The mean, rude, bossy girl who used to terrorize her entire freaking school!

Now I'm just another troubled teen stuck in high school. Still not prissy or anything, though. That's for suckers like Princess Rhonda Wellington Lloyd. Speaking of which, you'll never believe this but, I've actually gotten around to hanging out with Curly every now and then. We console each other over our mutual, devouring obsessions and messed up love lives.

You'll never read this message, and I couldn't be glader. You'll never know just how much I miss when you'd frown and scrunch that button-like nose of yours, how I wish I could lose my hands in the wonderfully precious golden-heaven that is your hair, how I wish my senses could turn amok just because I happened to brush you or because your scent lingered in the air.

Why did we break up, Arnold? I remember the feel of your lips against mine, how awkward you were the first times you'd try to lean in for a kiss and how I'd always make fun of you, making you blush in the process; I remember how your eyes had that soft, tender glow whenever I showed my true, softer side to you. I can still feel the electrizing sensation paralyzing my skin the first time you placed your hand in mine.

So, again: why? Is it truly because, as teenagers usually are, we'd both become messed up? Or is it because you had to move that you chose to break it off? Did you seriously think that I wouldn't wait for you? Knowing how annoyingly pragmatic, good-hearted and reasonable you can be, I assume you thought that it was more logical and better for me in the long run if we both were to break up, rather than for us to go through the hardship of a long-distance relationship.

But now, not only _do _I feel those harships, I also don't have the satisfaction, the reassurance of knowing that I can talk to you if need be, that you're alright. Now, because of this, I can't help but doubt whether you ever did truly care for me. Because of this, every day, I wonder if you've finally moved on or if today's the day: the day that you'll meet and fall for some other girl. Someone sweeter, someone prettier, kinder, smarter, someone perfect, much in the same way as you.

Anyway, this is pointless, and it's getting late. Gotta go sleep. Heh, you always _did _frown on my sleeping habits, studious worry-wart that you are.

Essay to write tomorrow so, I'll be on my way.

Nighty night, Football-head.

I love you.

_Yours eternally_,

**Helga G. Pataki**

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This crappy word file is gonna become my freaking diary, or like some sort of catharsis where I pour out my hearts, feelings, and desire to talk to a guy I haven't seen in years and for whom I fell in love with in freaking preschool. If that's not depressing, I don't know what is.

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_Well that's all for now. Hope you all liked it :) don't forget to fav and comment to tell me if you'd like me to continue! - CB~_


	2. Getting Over You

"_I will never be the same, I can't even say your name! Although our time is through...no getting over you_." - The Used.

Hey Football-head,

It's so hard to love unconditionally, you know? Terrible crap, all of it. Sometimes I hate it, then I realize that were it not for my love for you, I'd have turned nuts ages ago.

Now it's just that much harder because you're not even there to make things easier. Now, it's like a part of me – the only thing keeping me sane – has been ripped away.

You see, _Olga _was here yesterday, driving me mad, as usual, and you know what the worse part was? She kept mentioning you. Like "your little boyfriend" etc. Big Bob and Miriam do it too. They don't even care enough to realize that you moved away years ago. It doesn't matter to them if their daughter is freaking miserable and if she's lost her living, walking sanity. As you know, my parents are useless morons. I'm about as real to them as Miriam's sobriety, and that's saying something.

School isn't much better. I'm drowning in work, but I guess that's normal. Miss the days when we had Mr. Simmons drowning us in lovey-dovey crap and rainbows instead. Mostly, I miss them because back in those days, things made sense and, although I was still in the closet regarding my love for you, in a way, things were easier: Phoebe was entirely and only my best friend, Tall-hair boy was still a civil, decent human being, Curly was a twisted little freak and, most importantly my Love, you were there. You were the only reason I got up in the morning during that time, Arnoldo. Nowadays, I don't even know why I go through with it all. No matter how prestigious a college I end up attending, I know it'll never measure up to what my sister's accomplished, so why even bother? Plus, it's not like I care what Miriam and Big Bob think anyway.

Remember how I said I used to stalk you before we finally started dating? Well now I do it in a less literal way – through Facebook. Much more cliché, I know. Speaking of which, your privacy settings make me want to slaughter innocent civilians. I'm torn between asking Fuzzy Slippers to find your password and/or give me access to your wall, or respecting your lovable, wonderful privacy.

Why did I do that anyway, deleting you I mean? How stupid was I?! Now, because of my idiotic, pointless pride, I am forever forced to silently creep your cyber confessions, for the most part kept hidden from my tyrannic ways and my thirst for your love and approval, my darling.

Curly says you'll come around sooner or later and that we'll talk again. I ask him how he can be so sure and he says that with a Love like what "we" feel (and by that, he means him and I), patience is the only road to follow. He's not wrong in a way, but I can't help but wonder: is it true? Am I truly bound to be enslaved by the feelings that devour me from the inside, by my passion for you for all eternity? Was I – am I – wrong to fight it? Should I lose myself in the blissful insanity the mere thought of you brings me, or should I constantly strive to forget about you and to move on? After all, Curly isn't exactly the sanest guy there is, perhaps I shouldn't even listen to him at all. Not to mention the fact that some of his actions were really pushing things a bit too far, a bit like the time he blackmailed Princess Lloyd, even if she _did _deserve it. Do you even know about that? He warned me about it recently. It's the reason she pretended to date him all of those years ago. She'd stained her mother's precious fur coat, which Curly got cleaned, and he of course used the situation to his advantage.

Then again, who am I to judge the little freak? Some of the things I've done for you definitely merrit locking me up in the funny farm. Actually, as far as Curly's concerned, I should probably find something else to call him. He's no longer short at all. In fact, he's irritatingly much taller than me. Nothing worse for a girl bully than when biology takes you down and forces you back into a less violent role, regardless of whether you asked for it or not. Now even _Thaddeus Gammelthorpe_ the King of Nerds could probably put up a decent fight against me. Talk about adding insult to injury.

I know, I know, you've always hated my violent ways and aggressive tendencies but, if you recall, this mostly stopped once you decided to give me a chance. After all, I was so insanely happy, why would I need to take out a lack of frustration or misery on anyone else?

You wanna know something pathetic? Sometimes I talk to myself pretending it's you and I teasing each other like old times, or I make up scenarios in which we see each other again. Generally, you're amazed at how much prettier I've gotten and of course, you understand that you'll never find a match for my wit and charm. You then realize that you're still madly in love with me and eventually, we either escape to some far away country together, like Canada or France or something, or you just move back here, where you belong: with me.

Anyway, I should probably stop writing in thin air. It's getting pretty darn late and, well...school tomorrow again. Yeah, I should probably stop staying up so late, but I can't help it Football-head: I just can't stop thinking and worrying about you.

You're always on my mind, Arnold, and you can't even conceive how much it hurts to think that it might not at all be the same for you.

Well, on this depressing note, I'll leave for bed.

Night, my Love xxxx

_Your One and Only_,

**Helga G. Pataki**

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_Well, guess I continued. Thanks for the lovely reviews, everyone! This story's great for me – it's my catharsis in a way. BTW – the chapters will vary greatly in length because, well, Helga doesn't always feel like writing a ton. Hope you still find it to be an enjoyable read. :) - CB~_


	3. Me With No You

"_I'm not lost, I just haven't found...everything I need. I'm not torn, I'm just getting it together. I'm not broken, don't you mind...the pieces of me you see scattered on the ground, I swear I'll turn this all around. I'm not home, but I'm sitting...here in my room...I'm a photograph in need of a zoom. I feel far away, I can't make out the face: it's all blurred, since you went away._"- Bowling For Soup

Arnold,

I'm heartbroken. Crimeney! I'm heartbroken, just when I thought it was finally over; and it's all because of you.

Then again, I should have known something was wrong: I hadn't thought of you much that day. It would have been pure insanity intermingled with delusion for me to think that I could get over someone as perfect as you.

What's causing this, you ask? Well, his name is Steven. He's kind of cute, he's sweet and we became friends at some point. Eventually, he asked me out on a date and well – I went. We dated for a few weeks. It was nice at first, you know, a blissful distraction.

Then, when we were going to take it a step further, I literally burst into tears.

I tried controlling it, I tried holding it in, but I couldn't. The tears wouldn't stop, it was like a leak straight from my cursed heart. I curled into a ball and turned so as not to face him and I made as little noise as possible, but that dolt still understood that I was crying. He asked me what in the world was wrong, and if it was him, if he'd done something reprehensible. He said he was sorry, that perhaps he might have come unto me too fast, and I told him that it wasn't any of that.

He lied and swore that he cared about me, that whatever it was that was troubling me was clearly important and so that, if it was relevant to me, he also wanted to know what it was.

I mumbled the words, but he didn't hear.

I said I missed you.

Arnold, I miss you. So much.

And why did you have to say that? Why did you tell me you'd write to me only never to even send one freaking letter? Not even a Facebook message, an email, nothing.

Why would you lie to me like this? Did you underestimate how much I cared or did you do it purposefully to hurt me? No, you'd never do that, but in that case, I simply cannot comprehend why you'd pain me by saying something like that. You also said you'd visit, and what of it, Arnoldo? Where are you? Where are you every night when I try to fall asleep to the sound of Big Bob shouting at Miriam, and occasionally her arguing back and crying? Did you know he's been cheating on her recently? As if being a jerk and a blowhard wasn't enough.

Where are you when I sit alone at lunch because Phoebe's busy with her group of nerds or Tall-hair boy and Curly's off chasing Rhonda? Where are you when I'm miserable and feel like the world would be better off without me? Where are you when I feel as if no one would care if I were to mysteriously disappear from the face of the Earth?

Steven thinks he's there, wants to be there, but he's not, because he can't pierce through the shell. It's not his fault, he cares about me, but no more about me than he would about any other girl he'd find cute, smart and funny. I'm not special. He cares about me like he'll care about dozens of girls in his life.

And here I am, trying to banish the very thought of you from my mind and failing; here I am thinking of you every second, every moment, and every day. Here I am now no longer texting or calling Steven, no longer replying to his phone calls because I dread the thought of what happened last time and the possibility of it happening again.

I don't even know who to share this with – besides Curly that is, but even him, it doesn't quite work, he's different. I love you, I'm also obsessed with you because Love without obsession isn't Love at all, but he's just obsessed with Rhonda. Or maybe I'm just telling myself that to make myself feel better, maybe I really AM as creepy and twisted as him.

The difference between Curly and I is that I'm masochistic: loving you isn't enough, I need you to love me back. I don't have Curly's insane optimism that you secretely adore me but are in denial of your feelings, I'm a pessimist by nature; a pessimist and a hopeless romantic.

I don't know what to do. So once again, I try to flee my problems, except Miriam has forever disgusted my from alcohol and I hate the taste of cigarettes, therefore, my only catharsis is writing. Nowadays though, it's not enough, so I'm also looking for a part time job and to do charity work to get busy, so busy, that I'll only have time to sleep, eat, go to the bathroom, and do the tasks in question. I don't even want one spare second to think of you.

Phoebe's still my best friend by the way, but although she knows, I mean, she's known for ages, in a way, she _doesn't get it_, you know? I can't blame her: most people will never feel the way I feel for you towards someone else for their entire lives; plus I can't bother her all the time, she's very busy with school and stuff and, although I may be bossy when I'm with her, I still take her into consideration. I know her studies and getting into an Ivy League schools mean the world to her so I don't want to detract her from that goal by whining about you all the time. Except it's not whining: it's like an eternal wound in my chest, a non-palpable one that cannot be healed.

It's making me lose it, it's making me miserable.

A few months ago, I thought I'd finally mostly gotten over you, but it's like a drug: after that, I relapsed and started this, and ever since my last interaction with Steven, it's only gotten worse.

Nowadays, it hurts more than ever.

Anyway, this isn't even a letter to you so much as it's my own personal thoughts written on Microsoft Word. It's pretty much no different from back when I wrote about you in my little pink book.

I don't know what to do, Arnold. If there was another expression, an even more intense one in the English language to express just how miserable I am without you, just how much your absence is like a stab in my heart, I'd use it. I feel like no words can give this justice.

I'm slowly beginning to fear that I will feel devastated and lonely for the rest of my days if you're not there with me. No matter what the place, no matter what school or job I have, no matter how great the friends I'd have could be, I would still feel sad and lonely without you by my side, or at least, that's the future that seems to be slowly mapping out in front of me.

I think I'll go for a walk now. I need to try and clear my thoughts. If only I drank or smoked.

Goodbye my Love.

_Sincerely_,

**Helga G. Pataki**


	4. Maybe

"_Maybe it's time to change, leave it all behind, I've never been one to walk alone, I've always been scared to try. So why does it feel so wrong to reach for something more? To wanna live a better life: what am I waiting for?_" - Sick Puppies

Hey Football-head,

Feeling a little better this time. This whole "trying to be busy with other things" is working out very well for me, and now I don't feel as down. I spent a few days at Steven's because now his presence has the reverse effect: being with him distracts me enough so that I don't think about you too much.

But you know what? I'm sick of this situation, sick of being scared, and sick of hiding. After all, I'm _Helga_, Helga G. Pataki, and a Pataki does NOT get scared. So I've officially decided that, starting tomorrow, I'll try to message you on Facebook.

That's right, you heard me: I'm gonna find the guts to talk to you. Right now, you and the idea of you rejecting me is my biggest fear, so it's about time that I toughen up and face it so that I may either finally move on with my life, or at the very least know whether you have or not. Plus, I'll get to know how you're doing, which is really 90% of what I really want right about now.

Who knows? Maybe I'll talk to you and see that this whole thing is mere more but nostalgia for a once devouring passion which in reality is no more. Hopefully, it _will _be.

At any rate, writing pathetically on here to you isn't getting me anywhere. If I want things to change I have to stop dreaming and take control of my life and situation. After all, taking risks is part of living and I'll never know if you feel the same or still care about me if I don't speak to you. So here it is: normally, this'll be my last message to you on here.

Well, here goes nothing.

_Yours always_,

**Helga G. Pataki**

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_I took the suggestion of those who said that I should make Helga actually interact with Arnold. I'm not sure whether to write down their actual conversations or whether to keep going with only this format of Helga writing what she truly wishes to share with him on Microsoft Word so, leave your thoughts on this in the comment section. The rating will also go up for greater allusion to alcohol and some to sex, even. Hope you all still enjoy this story :) - CB~_


	5. Nothing

"_Am I better off dead? Am I better off a quitter? They say I'm better off now, than I ever was with her_." - The Script

SO,

I talked to you. I did it. I seriously thought that my heart would leap out of my ribcage, pierce a hole through my chest, and commit suicide by jumping off.

At first I added you as a friend on Facebook but thought against it. So I basically taped a video of myself – took me hundreds of retries, and heck knows how much of a struggle it was to change the video format to make it work for Facebook. I did all of this Arnold, and for what? For you to not even look at it.

Instead, you messaged me about half an hour after I sent my message, which is a lot quicker than I expected to be fair, only to tell me that if I wanted to talk to you, I didn't need to make a video of myself for that.

Well, we spoke for six hours and, to my chagrin, we only spoke casually and superficially. I did get to know how you were doing though, and that made me very happy. Glad that things with your parents are going swimmingly. You seem to miss your grandparents though, which is understandable. But the question still begs to be asked and answered: what about me, Arnold? Do you still miss me?

You seemed so normal, so...indifferent, almost as if nothing had ever happened between us. Well, at first anyway. Then when it felt like we were finally warming up to one another, you suddenly striked me as becoming rather...cold? It was so strange.

You did mention wanting to visit me, though. I dare not hope, and yet the thought has been trotting in my head ever since. _You_, visiting Hillwood once more, specifically to see _me_? It's almost too beautiful to fanthom!

But will the person visiting me be the wonderful Football-headed goody two shoes that I fell in love with so long ago, or will it be this seemingly strange, new indifferent Arnold that seems to treat me as a if I was mere more but a vague acquaintance?

I told you I had a boyfriend at the end, just in the hopes of bringing some kind of reaction out of you. You said that it "was nice" and that you had to go, but that I'd tell you more about him some other time.

I think that might have hurt you. Part of me hopes it did, and the other part, the one that selflessly wishes for your happiness before all, hopes that on the contrary, you didn't care, that you've moved on and that you're truly happy.

In the end, I don't know what I was expecting when I wrote to you again. What was I thinking? I guess I got my answer.

Heh, and to think I was enough of a sap to think that this would be the last time that I'd write in this document. Stupid me.

Well, this is it. I'm sick of writing useless words to none other than myself. I doubt you'd even care if you read all this anyway.

I'm going to bed.

Goodnight Arnold.

_Sincerely_,

**Helga G. Pataki**

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_I'm sorry if this chapter was a bit disappointing. It was intended, but no worries :) Helga's conversations with Arnold will continue, for better or worse. As for me, the same goes in my case as far as my Arnold's concerned. Thanks for all the reviews, favs and follows, guys! - CB~_


	6. Can't Sleep

_This chapter is much longer than the other two, and with reason: Helga and Arnold finally have a long, decent conversation! Hope you guys enjoy :D And thanks again to all those that follow and review...with the exception of that one person who unfaved me. You suck. Unless you fav me again, then you're cool._

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"_I was there when there was nothing left to say. When you closed your eyes I was the only one who stayed. You don't have to sell yourself to me, I would have bought you anyway_." - Armchair Cynics

Oh Arnold,

I don't know what to think or say anymore! We spoke all evening, ALL FREAKING EVENING – from six to midnight! I was so freaking happy and ecstatic!

Now, for some reason I'm feeling nostalgic. No, not for "some reason", but rather, because I miss you Football-head, I miss you so much. You'd think that having a long an awesome conversation with you would make it better, but no: it just makes it worse, in a way. Yet, at the same time, I'm appeased, because you _do _care, you _have _to care, right?

There's no way you'd talk to me if you didn't find me at least somewhat entertaining. At first you'd answer every half hour or so, but after a while we'd respond to each other immediately. We talked about tons of things, books, societal issues like sexism and assault, and movies. I also found out that you had a phobia of clowns. Huh, I mean, don't get me wrong, I hate those disgusting things, I mean, I agree with you, only a sociopath would put red lip stick over his mouth and insane amounts of makeup to try to parade in some weird costume and make children laugh. It's just the fact that the adorable dork that you are would reason like that which made me laugh, but then again, you've become a bit less of a goody two-shoes for certain things...and I think I know where you might've gotten the influence from ;)

Your wisdom never ceases to amaze me, my Love. That and your general knowledge of things. We kind of poked fun at each other as well, which made me happy, because it wasn't like the past conversation where I felt like everything was tense; this time, I didn't take anything personally and I think you didn't either.

You surprised me in a multitude of ways, however. Good ways, mostly, with only a single slightly negative one. Let's start by the good points.

For one, how long the conversation lasted. That in and of itself shows that there was genuine interest. You don't just spend six hours talking to someone that terribly bores you. Another thing was that the new cold, indifferent Arnold was mostly absent from this conversation and thankfully replaced by the adorable knight in shining armor that has been haunting my girlish dreams since the tender age of four.

The second thing is when we were talking about sexism I mentioned how girls get harassed on a daily basis and well, you haven't really seen me in a while, but let's just say I changed quite a bit...unfortunately in some points. I mean, I'm not prissy or anything, but I'm growing to be quite the "shapy" woman if you catch my drift and crimeney! I NEVER realized just _how _annoying certain pricks could be. Of course, as soon as I hear whispers, a whistle or a disparaging comment of any sort, you know me, I either insult those losers or chase after them to beat the crap out of their sorry, idiotic heads. So far, haven't caught one of them though. Darnit, I guess they must have a lot of training running away from girls like me or from angry boyfriends. Either way, just for that, I'm joining the track team.

Phoebe's heard a lot of bad stuff too. I stick up for her when I'm around but, of course, I can't _always _be there. I know it's even harder for her and it terribly affects her self-esteem, and it just makes me so mad, that some idiots can be so primeval and inconsiderate and the worst part is, I can't do anything about it.

To go back to you, your violent reaction surprised me. I mean, of course the Arnold I knew would have said that this was unacceptable behaviour, but he would have probably said something overly sensitive and naive like "well why don't you just tell them that it makes you uncomfortable". Weirdly enough, the "new" Arnold was positively raging. It shocked me how...protective you were of me – dare I use such a term? – I mean, it's _me_. You never seemed to worry about me _before_, or at least, not when guys would just pick on me for different reasons.

Despite how weirdly out of character this seems, it made me feel so loved and special that you, my peaceful angel, would throw aside your pacifist ways when it came to the jerks bothering me and making things difficult for my best friend and me. Oh Arnold, why must you be so perfectly flawless my hero, my golden-haired prince? If only you were here with me, then we could belittle those creeps like the trash they happen to be.

Those were just some of the positive things. More to your habit, you asked me how my life was going. You expressed your usual worry for Tall-hair boy. Apparently, you guys don't even communicate much by mail _or _facebook and, when you do, he's become a "completely different person". Huh, sounds familiar now, doesn't it? I heard he's more and more in touch with Fuzzy Slipper for things, but I don't think it's to ask him about innocent things like back when we were kids. I hope he doesn't fall into that kind of mess, because if so, at least out of devotion for you, I'll have to try and beat some sense into him...literally and, with Phoebe, this could get a bit messy.

Curly and I had a fight, forgot to tell you. He said I totally disregarded his feelings just because I said that, although beauty _was _a subjective concept, even subjectivity had its limits but that this crap shouldn't matter anyway because people were so much more than the way they looked. I don't know, somehow he took that terribly. Him loving Rhonda and completely adoring her "beauty" and every move totally contradicts his position, too, but I guess he must have had a bad day or something. I sent him a message today apologizing, but still no response. I hope he's okay and that he really _is _just miffed at me for our stupid argument. If it's something more serious and I made his day worse, I just know I'll feel like crap, even if I'm absolutely not responsible for it.

Anyway, to end on the more negative note...ironically enough, just as Steven showed up for us to go to the movies – Godzilla just came out and I was freaking hyped up for this movie – you suddenly seemed upset at something meaningless I'd said and coldly just told me something along the lines of "I have to go to bed now bye". Like, wow. Talk about a sudden change of attitude. It's like you have a sixth sense or something. Either way, I didn't actually say something meaningless. In retrospect, I think you just mistook one of the things I said as being negative.

We were talking about evil people, people who physically take advantage of others against their will. I guess it was to be expected, but I _was _a little disappointed to learn that you go to typical high school parties quite a bit and that you actually do some drinking, too. I guess it's not so bad in moderation but, as you know, with Miriam and all, I've found myself incapable of enjoying and drinking any type of alcoholic beverage. Anyway, I told you to be careful, that I worried about you...you told me that you were and that you always had friends that you trusted with you and what not. I guess after that I felt like my statement was a little too sentimental, so I joked about how I was worried about you so much despite you being a guy. That's when you seemed offended and asked what I meant by that, after which you ditched me to go sleep. I specified, my Love, that statistically, it was less likely that the stuff we'd talked about would happen to you, that was all I meant. That doesn't mean that, as I mentioned before, I don't worry about you all the time, because I do. Even if there was a 0.1% chance of anything happening to you I'd _still _worry because, well, that's what love _is_. If anything happened to you, Arnold, I don't care if I had zero involvement in it, I'd still feel responsible and I'd be positively devastated and miserable. Your answer about having good friends reassured me a little, though. Perhaps you can tell me more about them next time.

Oh Football-head...I hope you didn't take that the wrong way or that, if you did, I made up for it when I specified what I meant.

If you only knew how much I love you, Arnold. Everytime I talk to you, I'm positively dismayed and swayed by my adoration for you and by how much you mean to me. I still wonder though...do you simply like me, or do you "like me like me" as we used to say? Am I but a figure of your past, or do you still have feelings of love and passion for me? Would you deem me insane if I were to tell you that I still love you and that, to this day, I can't imagine my life without you, or do your reciprocate the feeling? And is it even worth talking about this when we're both so far away?

I told Phoebe about my conversation with you. We were skyping as I was chatting with you over Facebook. She kept telling me to stop talking about random things and to tell you how I really felt, but I just couldn't, I mean, what was I gonna say?! "Hey Arnold guess what? I'm still madly in love with you and I don't care about the distance I'd be willing to wait for you loyally just so that we can be united some day and have awesome times together then have like three children and get married so that we could live together t'ill death do us part"? I mean, we're freaking sixteen, that would creep out _any _teenage boy! You may be mature for your age, but let's not exaggerate. Besides, there's no way that, even if you did "like like me", you'd love me and have feelings as intense as those that I harbor towards you.

Wow, this was a lot of typing, but I guess there was just a lot to say, this time. Anyway, it's late again. Sure, tomorrow's Saturday, but I really _do _need my beauty sleep.

Gonna go now.

Goodnight, my angel.

_With Love and Adoration_,

**Helga G. Pataki**


	7. The One That Got Away

_In another life, I would be your girl. We'd keep all our promises, be us against the world. In another life, I would make you stay, so I don't have to say you were the one that got away." - _Katy Perry

I usually don't like her songs, but this one just hit too close to home.

Oh Arnold!

Why is it always such a rollercoaster with you?

Then again, maybe it isn't: maybe that's just me and you just talk to me whenever you're bored. I don't know.

So I found out last time why you vanished so suddenly; apparently you were about to pass out from sleep and wanted to make sure you said goodbye to me. I'm not sure how much I believe that explanation but I guess I don't have much of a choice but to accept it. We talked some more after that, and it was playful and friendly, then you just stopped answering without saying bye this time. I knew you had to go to the movies, so I didn't feel too bad.

The true catastrophy happened last week, however; for once in my life, I, Helga G. Pataki, actually went to a party...with Curly and Eugene, ironically. Yeah, I know. Surprisingly, it was kind of fun. I took one shot that was offered to me despite my usual disgust of alcohol, but that was it. It didn't taste so bad. You won't see me chugging those down, however.

I told you some time ago about the fact that I didn't drink.

I wish I hadn't.

You see, I came home at 5 am that night with a huge stomach ache due to the terrible pizza place Eugene brought us to (I swear I am never again going there...AND THE MUSIC! It was like something from a nightmare! Horrible, cheesy 80's Italian music). So much for that place being "much better and healthier than McDonald's", _dweeb_!

Anyway, so I wasn't really in a very normal state of mind. As if that weren't enough, I could hear Big Bob and Miriam in their room; the two were somehow still awake and, unfortunately for me, they were fighting again, very loudly, might I add. Pricks.

SO, what hit me as a good idea at that moment? Why, to say hello to you, of course! I figured you were probably still asleep but, interestingly enough, you couldn't sleep (and you'd gone out yourself the day before). We talked for a bit and joked and what not...then I did the unthinkable.

I told you I missed you.

You read it and didn't respond for a few minutes. I was already half suffocating in fear by that point, so I quickly bid you goodnight and left. Too curious for my own good, I checked for an answer half an hour later.

You'd just wished me goodnight. No answer besides that. No "I miss you too", nothing.

I had nightmares all night. They were basically all about you. One of them was you responding to the message and saying that I should "calm down and not spout such nonsense, since it was already nice of you to even talk to me. You then blocked me before I could respond.

When I woke up from that one I jumped on Facebook to check if it had actually happened and was insanely relieved to see that it had just been my insane brain torturing me.

The second nightmare was with some lady predicting the future. Phoebe was in there; she accused me of being a bad friend for whatever reason. And then the lady turned into this demon as I explained that my love for you was my damnation. Dreamed of a bunch of other stuff, but forgot about it.

Anyway, so panicked me wrote to you the next morning saying that I didn't dare scroll up the convo and pretending as if I couldn't remember what I'd said. I asked if I had somehow embarrassed myself in any way and you reassured me by saying that I haven't. You asked me if I'd been drunk and I kind of gave you a vague answer, like how I didn't think I drank much but that I definitely wasn't feeling well. Now here's the thing, Arnold: are you really, really dense/naive, as I know you sometimes can be, or do you KNOW that what I'm saying is bullcrap. In other words, do you remember my previous claim of not drinking, and how much do you take my word on said matter?

Unfortunately for me, considering what you know of my home life, you probably place a reasonable weight on my no alcohol policy claim. On the bright side, whichever one of these explanations is the right one, at least you still talk to me and chose to conveniently ignore my previous foolishness.

But the thing is, Arnold, why did you ignore it? Is it because you don't miss me at all? Because you think it's pointless to respond since it might make things even harder for us considering that I'm far away? Or are you just being shy?

I don't know. I don't know anything anymore. I mean, you spoke to me after we conveniently chose to ignore me going completely insane and suicidal. We talked for like an hour or two and all seemed fine between us.

Thing is, I've written to you since then, you've read my messages...and still no answer. Nothing. I don't know what to make of it.

What I said...did it catch up to you after all?

Do you plan on never talking to me again?

I don't know what to do anymore. At the same time you make me so mad! I feel like lashing out at you like in the good old days when you ignore me like this. Like, I'm torn between tearing you down and asking you what in the world is wrong with you. Or maybe I should just ignore you completely and forget this whole ordeal.

Speaking of forgetting, Steven decided to cut ties with me. He says it's too difficult since he still has feelings for me and he knows it's not mutual. I wanted us to be friends but clearly that's too much to ask of him for now. Stupid sap. Who needs him anyway.

You know what? That. is. it.

I'm sick of this, and I'm sick of you poisoning my life.

Right now, you're far away and, really, if you think about it, that's the entire problem. It needs to be fixed.

My decision is made.

Somehow, someday, you and I are gonna be reunited and work things out. I just need to figure out how and when.

I'll win you back, my Love, you'll see. It's just a matter of time.

_With fierce passion_,

**Helga G. Pataki**

* * *

_Hope you guys like the new update! Sorry for taking so long and I must say, I'm impressed and really touched by all of the comments, follows and favorites. You guys are the best :3 Feel free to share your impressions of the story so far as well as what you think will happen, and what you'd like to see, etc. Remember, all reviews are read and taken into consideration! - CB~_


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